Of Pigs and Men
by Silvestria
Summary: What this fandom really needs is more stories involving pig sex. Inspired by 4x07 spoilers and things the actors have said. Mary/Blake leaning. PG-13 for puerile innuendo.


_Inspired by what the actors have said about trying to shoot this scene. I'm not even sorry though I will probably be disappointed tonight!_

* * *

Even before the pigs had arrived at Downton, they dominated conversation. Mr. Blake in particular had fixated on them as providing excellent employment for the farm hands as well as providing food for the masses.

"And for us up at Downton!" Robert had put in jovially, making Mary wince at how much he had missed the point.

When double the number of animals had arrived than expected the day before his departure, she thought he was probably glad to be out of the drama. His "Good luck with the pigs!" parting shot to her almost had a gleeful ring to it.

The following morning it was time to see the new arrivals but when Mary appeared in the hall ready to walk over to the farm, she had the disagreeable surprise of seeing Mr. Blake waiting with Tom. Her raised eyebrows was greeting enough.

"He expressed an interest in coming with us," her brother-in-law explained sheepishly.

Mr. Blake gave her what she had privately named his "government approved smile" and said, "How could I miss it?"

Mary only rolled her eyes.

When they reached the farm, however, the farmer met them and detained Tom with a request to have a look at some of the figures inside. With a shrug, he was forced to go in and leave the other two to see the animals alone.

"Don't worry," Mary put in for the farmer's benefit with a charming smile and a malicious, sideways glance, "Mr. Blake is a self-professed expert on pigs!"

"Expert?" he queried a few moments later as they walked side by side over to the pens.

"Amateur, if you prefer, but don't disclaim it."

He raised his eyebrows. "An amateur on pigs. That sounds rather inappropriate."

They had reached the pen which gave Mary an excuse to ignore his last comment. She was not a particularly enthusiastic animal lover in general and there was nothing about a pen filled to bursting with incredibly active pigs snorting and pushing each other in the mud to appeal to her on an aesthetic level.

"Fattening up nicely," said Mr. Blake as he leaned on the fence, in a tone of voice that suggested his mind had been no more ethereally engaged than hers had. "You should be able to aim for a 300 pound market weight with most of these."

Mary leaned one hand on the fence as she turned to him, scrambling for patience. "Is that a good thing?"

"If you're trying to breed pigs for slaughter and you don't even know that then no wonder your estate is in trouble."

She took a deep breath as her expression closed up. "Blame my governess. My education was clearly very deficient."

"Bound to be, if you had a governess." He leaned over the fence and concentrated on scratching the back of a large spotted sow.

Mary turned abruptly and realised that the fence had been muddy and it had come off on her gloves.

"Actually they're some of the cleanest animals you'll find, pigs. Not dirty at all," Mr. Blake commented, glancing up at her, his eyes flickering between her fingers and her face.

Mary brushed the palms of her hands together, wishing she could brush the intruder away with as much ease. "Indeed?" she replied frigidly, glaring out over the pen.

He stood up straight and brushed the sleeves of his own jacket. Smiling to himself, he took a step closer to her. "I know you'd like nothing better than to push me over this fence, Lady Mary-" That got her attention. "To throw me to the, ah, pigs but only consider -"

"You're mistaken, Mr. Blake. I wouldn't go to such trouble when you seem so at home here without any encouragement from me."

"Are you calling me a pig?"

Their voices had raised naturally from the agitation of the moment but also because the noise around them had escalated over the last few minutes, the squealing of the pigs seeming louder and more frequent than it had been when they had arrived, especially from the back part of the pen which was in the barn. At this, Mary turned and walked briskly towards the covered area.

"No, just a swine," she muttered under her breath, not caring if he heard. Out loud, she exclaimed as she neared the barn, "Are they ___fighting _in there?"

Mr. Blake had caught her up quickly and stopped right behind her when she halted at the entrance. An instinct made him lay a restraining hand on her arm.

"Lady Mary, I'm not sure-"

She shook him off and started forward again if only to lose him at her back, only to come to an even more abrupt stop as she reached the fence and became aware of just what the pigs were doing. Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped.

"Not fighting then," said Mr. Blake, impossibly blandly.

She could not look at him. "Not exactly," she managed to choke out, unable to tear her eyes away from the moving shapes she could make out in the gloom of the barn.

"You know, I think there's another pair back there," he mused, peering forwards. "You're going to need a bigger pen."

"Oh!" Mary gasped, unable to bear it any longer. She spun and walked out of the barn as quickly as she could. Her lips were trembling for she was afraid she was going to burst out laughing and she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her.

He saw her silhouetted in the sunlight at the entrance of the barn, her hand still clasped tensely to her mouth and he gave her a moment to compose herself before he followed her out, privately rather eager to escape the rhythmic squeals of the pigs which were now increasing rapidly in speed and volume.

He joined her at the same moment as Tom appeared from the farmhouse.

"I'm all finished in there. How about you?" he asked with an easy smile, his eyes flickering between them as if there appeared something different about them.

"We're finished too," replied Mary, fully self-possessed. "Let's go." Only Mr. Blake, standing an inch too close to her could tell from the subtle shifts in her clothing as it brushed his that her heart beat was still elevated.

"How did you find the pigs?" asked Tom.

Their eyes met suddenly in alarm and, behind the reserve they both wore, amusement. Behind them, they suddenly became aware that an intense silence had fallen.

"Very satisfied," replied Mr. Blake with a nod to Tom, making a move away from the pen.

"Good to hear. It might work out then, having them here," Tom said with a smile to both him and Mary.

She only raised her eyebrows. "Now who sounds sentimental, Mr. Blake?"

"Happy porkers make for well-hung pork. Besides," he added in a lower tone for her ears only, "who doesn't enjoy a good pastoral love story from time to time?"

"I wouldn't have thought _you_ did," she murmured back.

He shrugged and grinned suddenly. "I can make exceptions."


End file.
